Trust
by Il fanatico
Summary: Every photo includes someone that she can trust with her own life, and that she would do anything to protect.  Three-shot tag to 9x13 exploring trust. Tony's view, Ziva's view, and NOW both. Please R&R!
1. Panther

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Spoilers: **Season 9, Episode 13

Like a panther, he watches his prey, slowly stepping closer before pouncing in for the kill. His eyes burn like copper chloride thrown into a fire and from his palms drop rivulets of his own blood. Perhaps he should have cut his fingernails yesterday.

With eyes darkened by the hurt of betrayal and loss she strides by the opposite side of his hiding place and he releases the tension in his legs. Every fiber of him wants nothing more than to walk out on the tarmac and hurt the man who has thrown her life into such a mess.

Instead, he keeps his cool. His pace is leisurely, and his hands are lazily placed in his pants pockets. When he reaches the airplane beside which The Other Man stands, he comes to a stop. A safe four feet of tarmac lay between them.

"She left quickly," our panther comments. He speaks casually, keeping a lid on his natural tendencies to pound some sense into The Other Man.

The Other Man sighs and looks resignedly to where she had left. "Yeah." He looks back to the panther. "I messed up."

Laughing softly, demonstrating his slowly abating anger, he replies, "Oh yeah. That was a royal screw-up you had there."

"I had no choice!"

He shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not. But," he takes a step forward, "you lied to her," another step. "You barely visited her," even closer, "And you just couldn't ever appreciate her." Now, the panther is a foot away from his prey, about to raise his paw and strike The Other Man down, without even showing his temper. "You betrayed her trust."

But The Other Man is a CIA agent, practiced in the methods of interrogation and its brother, intimidation. "If you had been in my place, would you have done differently?"

"Yes," is the unhesitating reply.

"I find that difficult to believe; I know about the Grenouille and Rivkin fiascos."

He forces himself to retrace his steps, resisting the urge to give the other man a piece of his mind. "I am a changed man."

"As am I, but does she know that?"

Just then, there comes the scream of sirens, and the tired conversation ends. The panther walks away, knowing that The Other Man wouldn't run. He knows that the defeated ex-boyfriend, fiancé, or whatever, has little motivation left. And the panther makes a vow to himself that he won't ever betray her trust.

**A/N: **Shorter than I would like, but oh well. The next chapter, and then maybe the third, will be up today! The second and third will most definitely be longer as well.

If you liked, or if you didn't, please review! All feedback is greatly appreciated.


	2. Photograph

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

** Spoilers: **Just about every season of NCIS.

From every relationship Ziva has learned something; from Roy she discovered that the heart wants what it wants and there is very little that one can do to change that fact. The incident with Michael has taught her to be careful, and that she should not let personal feelings cloud her judgment. Most importantly, the mess had revealed to her how much her surrogate family cares for her. Now, with Ray…frankly, that long distance relationships rarely work. But, she's also figured out that her kind of man will appreciate her, thus Ray just is not the right one. More significantly, she has learned from _all _of her relationships that she must be able to trust the other person involved in this relationship.

Ziva surveys her room from her bed, and it feels like the first time she has ever really looked at it; the walls are a nice off-white color, complimenting the blue and white bedspread, but there is very little that suggest a long-term occupant. If she had decided to marry and move in someplace with Ray, there would have been almost nothing to move. A few Gemcity novels and some movies Tony has given her are all that reside in her bookcase.

Hoping to get her mind away from more depressing topics, Ziva slides off of her bed and opens her closet, looking for a small metal box not unlike a safety-deposit box that one might find at a bank. Sighting it in the far corner on the uppermost shelf, she carefully pulls it down to her. It contains all of the photos she has saved from crime scenes and been given to by Abby. Actually, Ziva has opened it recently, on New Year's after the team's celebration, but only to add in the pictures that the forensic scientist had been handing out as party favors. Miraculously, the box had survived her previous apartment's explosion.

She carefully lays each photograph out on the carpet in a neat array, arranged into rows by the year written on the back of each frozen moment in time. The first row is comprised mostly of Tony making funny faces and giving her slightly suggestive looks, as well as a few of McGee at the mercy of a clever (considered petty in others' eyes) prank. There is one of the team at the bowling alley, to where Abby had insisted on going. The next year's photos have a slightly different mood; there are images of all of the team members, including Ducky and Abby, and Tony's eyes, upon scrutiny, appear slightly distracted. The surveillance photos taken by Mossad are even included.

Ziva's third year at NCIS is illustrated by still some crime scene photos, but also by several that Abby insisted on taking while they were having their 'girl's night outs'. And the last few…they were taken by Tony while the two of them were in Los Angeles with the Director. They made quite a good-looking duo, she has to admit.

The following year's photos are distinctly fewer, for no single reason. Ziva's favorite is one of Amanda, Agent Lee's sister, sitting at Ziva's desk, which is the only one she herself put in the box. The others were of the team and each of its individual members, as taken by Abby.

After that comes the momentous year that included her rescue from the Somali terrorist camp. These pictures are more numerous, due to an excited forensic scientist and Ziva's own urge to preserve every memory she could of her new family. Tony's picture of her in Paris is actually not the only one of her. Abby had sneakily taken photos of Tony and Ziva, some very funny. There is one where Tony had grabbed Ziva from behind and held her to him long enough for Abby to capture the surprised look on Ziva's face. The mood is slightly reminiscent of her early years as an NCIS-Mossad liaison. And, she cannot believe she has not noticed it before, but there is a grainy cell phone picture of them sleeping on each other's' shoulders, sharing a blanket, while on the cargo plane back from Mexico; only Gibbs could have taken it.

And such the images continue for the most recent year. But what Ziva notices is that the overlying similarity of each one was _trust_. Every photo includes someone that she can trust with her own life, and that she would do anything to protect. None of her ex-boyfriends are in any of the still frames.

**A/N: **I hope you all liked this, and thanks for all of the alerts! I will set a tentative posting date for chapter three as tomorrow. That chapter will feature the friendship and drama that I said would be present in this story.

Review, please!


	3. Pasta

**A/N: **Let me first apologize. I have had my first case of massive writer's block, and I empathize with all who have been victimized by this terrible predicament. I hated it. I just could not decide how to put the scene in my head onto the computer screen. I even tried hand-writing it. Long story short, I finally had enough free time to focus my mind on the task at hand. This is the product of many long hours spent staring at Microsoft Word, wishing that some genius would invent an Ethernet connection from my brain to the computer.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it.

After the detective parts ways with the two NCIS agents, they continue walking together to where their cars are parked side-by-side. Ziva makes to get in her Mini Cooper, but pauses when Tony leans over and rests his elbows on the shiny black hood.

"What do you say we go out for some drinks and do some," he gives her a jokingly suggestive look, "cherishing?"

Ziva smiles politely back at him, but replies, "I am sorry, Tony." Her smile fades. "I just do not quite feel like going out tonight."

He scrutinizes her, much like Professor Dumbledore does to Harry Potter, as it feels like his eyes are like X-rays, looking right through her to her soul. "All right," he says at last, and stands up straight.

Relieved, she resumes sliding into the driver's seat. "Thank you Tony, I really need some time."

Yep," he calls, and Ziva closes the car door. Out of the corner of her eye she watches Tony enter his own vehicle. Like a gentleman, or someone who greatly fears for the welfare of himself and his car, he allows her to pull out first. He knows her all too well.

Upon arriving back at her apartment, Ziva immediately enters her bedroom and changes into more comfortable clothes before sitting (if such a verb means to collapse with an almighty flop) on her couch. Thoughts, images, and memories swirl around in her head like moths around a lamp. So strong are these thought processes that she cannot help but to succumb to them.

_Michael was a terrible cook, but she could not bring herself to point it out to him. Instead, she smiled, gave evasive comments that were grayer than the truth, but did not lie and say that the sorry attempt spaghetti with meatballs was subpar. After the meal was finished, he blindfolded her and led her into her bedroom. When he uncovered her eyes she saw that he had bought for her a gift from Israel, or wherever he claimed to have been. Later, when imprisoned, she would wonder how she could have ever trusted him enough to be freely blindfolded._

_ He could not possibly have shot him in the leg. No, instead he had to put four in her lover's chest. Out of jealousy, out of duty, out of adrenaline rush, or whatever he meant when he insisted, "You weren't there." There was no way she could ever trust him, no matter how right he had been or how much she knew that the betrayal was not his._

"_The plan," said the dirtied, bruised man tied in the chair opposite her. Unwillingly, she let a spark of hope begin to bloom inside of her. "You have an escape plan?" she verified. He winked, and the spark went out. He was still the cocky fool she remembered from all those months ago. The fool she saw in her waking dreams, in the moments she was most vulnerable, in the times she thought back with anger on what brought her to this place. How could she trust that he had a plan? And then, minutes later, as her personal Satan dropped dead to the floor, she allowed herself to trust in the fool once again._

_The CIA agent greeted her with a kiss and "Hey, beautiful." She smiled at the term of endearment, even though she hated it. He pulled flowers from behind his back, and they were her favorite, of course. He was such a romantic. "How did you know?" she laughed, happy to be in his presence. "If I told you, I'd have to lie. And we agreed, no lies," he murmured into her ear whilst holding her close. _No lies, just secrets_, she thought in her head. And she had put enough faith in him to believe he would uphold his side of the argument. How wrong she was._

_A movie played, and the two of them, the Israeli and the Italian, sat together on the couch, their separation the now-standard closer than necessary, but far enough part for tension and a shadow of professionalism. At the text alert of her phone, he picked it up and answered for her, a grin-_

The memory moths slam to a standstill with the knock on her apartment door. Groaning, Ziva lifts herself off of the couch, picks up her gun, and walks to open the door for none other than Tony DiNozzo himself.

Cheesily grinning, he counters her exhausted expression. "You've had some time."

She glances at the clock. "All of five minutes."

"6 minutes, twenty-seven seconds, to be precise. Plus the twenty minutes of driving time." He somehow slips past her and enters her apartment.

"Driving time does not count."

"You're right; I have forgotten how much concentration it takes to drive like a child in his first bumper car. Pedal to the medal, and no driving in straight lines."

Ziva chuckles slightly, but an impending headache prevents her from taking full appreciation of the remark on her driving. By the time she has closed the door behind him, he is lounging on her couch, looking perfectly at home, shoes off and everything.

"Cherishing time?" Tony pleads with a mock puppy face. All too obviously, he is trying to cheer her up.

"Tony," she replies exasperatedly, but walks over and joins him on the couch, making room for herself by pushing his feet to the floor with a forced disgusted look. "My head hurts, my feet hurt, and I just want to get some sleep." In the span of her sentence, he matures a few years and sits upright, still facing her, but a more comforting look on his face.

"I might be able to help with something." Tony motions for her feet, and with a tremendous eye roll she sets the aforementioned appendages on his lap. Without taking his eyes from hers, he massages them, untying knots and relieving sores, thus eliciting a small moan from her. For a moment, she is lost in pleasure as he finds the cracks in her walls.

"That better?" he asks later. Ziva wishes him to continue, but can already feel the walls rebuilding. Instead, she just nods, but does not move a muscle other than to close her eyes. After a moment, Tony gently removes himself from underneath her legs, and she hears him attempt to tiptoe (he is an elephant in tap shoes to her) into the kitchen. The sounds of preparing a meal soon fill the silence, and Ziva, knowing that she should help, finds herself without true motivation to move. So she remains stretched out on the couch with her eyes closed and listens to Tony begin to hum softly.

Tony busies his hands making her dinner while letting his thoughts wander. He can understand why Ziva is so upset, but he wants to hear it from her; he wants her to stop having to deal with things herself and let others help. In her own weird way, it seems she is finally beginning to let him be there for her, by inviting (or rather, allowing) him into her home. The moment back on the couch had been personal, something she wouldn't normally let him do.

After half an hour, the food is ready, and Tony carries the single serving he made over to Ziva. Her eyes are closed, her face peaceful, and he can almost believe she is sleeping, except that subtle signs tell him that she isn't. With a grand sweeping bow, he breaks the silence. "And for you, m'lady, the best spaghetti and meatballs you will ever consume." A small smile appears on her face, and her eyes open.

"Thank you, Tony, but I am not hungry," she says politely, although she sits up.

Regardless, he places the plate in front of her. "It's not nice to refuse a DiNozzo-cooked meal."

Ziva rolls her eyes for the second time that night, but again does as he says. While she eats, Tony cleans up the mess he inevitably made in her kitchen, and he returns later to find that she has cleaned her plate, despite the previous claim that she is not hungry. When their eyes next meet, after the plate and silverware have been placed in the dishwasher, he silently asks her if she wants to talk. Predictably, she replies that no, she does not, at least not now. He consents, and she is visibly relieved.

"I am sorry-"

"Shh," Tony places a finger over her lips. "That's enough apologizing for one night. I understand, you're tired. We don't have to talk. Go get some sleep."

Ziva nods, but waits for him to exit her apartment.

"You're not going to make me leave."

"Tony, I am not a child-"

"To bed. Now."

Ziva lies in bed now, and even in the dark, she senses him entering her bedroom. He makes no sound, but the wafting smell of cologne and deodorant reaches her nostrils; she tenses. However, he just quietly sits down on the floor, his back against the wall, and she feels his eyes on her. Tony and his protective worriness. He is like a mother hen who knows how to keep his distance and yet be always watching.

She cannot quite comprehend how changed he is acting; no movie, not much teasing or prodding, just simply being there, part of the background. Why is he still here? This is not like them, to be so quiet and polite to each other. Tony sat in the living room while she got ready for bed, doing naught but grinning when she walked out of the bathroom in the skull-covered long-sleeved pajamas Abby had given to her when she returned from Africa. Maybe, he deserves at least something to know and ponder.

"I am not happy because I cannot trust my own judgment. I thought Ray might finally be the one who I could start a family with. I trusted him, almost as much as I trust you, Gibbs, McGee, everyone. Apparently I was wrong. Maybe, maybe there is no one out there that I can trust enough."

Ziva trusts Tony enough to let him enter and stay in her home, so why can she not trust him enough to enter and stay in her life?

Who knows? Maybe she can, but does not know it yet.

All this he asks and answers himself while watching her sleep and being lullabied by drunken sailor snores.

**A/N: **Again, I cannot believe how long it took me to update, and I cannot apologize enough. Please, forgive me, and REVIEW. I take criticism, compliments, and musings, whatever. It means a lot if you would give me some feedback, whether it be one word or a soliloquy.

Reviews are to authors as caffeine is to Abby. Not absolutely necessary, but so greatly appreciated.


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